


Time for Tea

by Incredibly_volatile



Category: Ni No Kuni: Wrath of the White Witch (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, I don't know how to tag this but it's sweet I promise, Reunited Family, short ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:33:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25860622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Incredibly_volatile/pseuds/Incredibly_volatile
Summary: After the events of Ni No Kuni, the brothers talk- or rather, not talk- over an afternoon tea at the Hamelin Palace. There's something missing from the both of them, and neither talk about it just yet.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Time for Tea

They sit at the table for afternoon tea.

There’s no talking, but it’s not like the two weren’t used to it. They’re both familiar with the silent meals or muttered conversations they had as kids. The only noises are the brief pouring of green tea and the clinking of a teaspoon against a teacup.

Something lingers in the air and it’s hard to tell what it is, but it feels thick and it catches in Swaine’s throat. He has to stop himself from coughing. It would be rude after all, and Marcassin is one to keep manners in check, especially in his own palace.

He watches the prince add too much sugar into his brew as he always did. It looks like he put ten bloody cubes in there, the idiot. He remembers how bad of a sweet tooth the boy had when he was younger. He holds his own drink, plain and boring. While he did ask, Swaine got a cup of tea instead of coffee, after the other insisted that coffee is clearly inferior. He couldn’t be bothered to argue back. It’s too hot for him to drink right now, anyway. The heat seeps into his hands and it almost burns the skin. He keeps looking at his brother, tempted to say something. Tempted to say anything.

They should have been used to being together by this time. It had been a while since the kid had brought them together to fight off the end of the world, but they never really… Spoke. Sure, words were exchanged and they weren’t cold towards each other, but it was never a real conversation. In all that time during their adventure, they never properly realised that they had found each other again. They’re worried they might not ever realise. Afterwards, Marcassin had offered him to stay at the palace for a few days at least, because he shouldn’t be half living at the nearest inn every night even if he’s used to it— and so on. He stopped listening at a certain point, so it wasn’t like he could have said no. It’s only been a day and the silence between them is crushing. He wonders if he regrets making that offer, because for some reason Swaine doesn’t regret taking it.

Marcassin takes a sip and makes a face. He can’t tell if it’s because it’s too sweet or if it’s too hot, but he wants to crack a smile. The younger brother keeps stirring the tea, as if that could fix things. He wants to say something, but the moment passes and he doesn’t. He just looks down at his plate of cake and sandwiches as listens to Marcassin talk about how he added too much sugar. A sigh comes from that side of the room too, and there’s no longer the sound of a teaspoon clinking against his teacup.

“Swaine.” He can feel eyes staring at him. “ _Gascon._ ”

“Mm?” He manages to flick his eyes up from the table and back onto his brother; it’s the first time they’ve looked each other in the eyes for fifteen years. It’s both unnerving and comforting.

“Something’s wrong. You’ve been quiet the entire time you’ve been here.” His hands are folded neatly on the table, as a prince would. Swaine’s hands aren’t. He looks back down and shrugs as Marcassin sighs again. “You can tell me what it is, Gascon. Please.”

“Oh really?” he asks dryly. “So I can tell you about how I almost got in trouble with a mafia gang in Al Mamoon?”

“I can’t recognise if that’s a joke or not— are you being serious?” The older one just raises his eyebrows in reply, an almost smile on his face and mischief in his eyes. He still has it in him to play a jape or two, as he always does; he’s practically a jester for everyone he’s close with. Marcassin huffs, but his tone is lighthearted. “Genuinely! I do not want to have a parlay with the Cowlipha about how my _brother_ -”

“Okay, okay! I got it.” He holds his hands up in surrender. “It was a joke, there’s no need to worry your little blue head off. There’s no mafia coming after me… Yet.“

He laughs at that and takes another sip of tea. He pretends he doesn’t need to grimace at it.

They settle down into quiet again, but the air no longer feels suffocating. It just feels peaceful. Marcassin subtly tries to pour more of the pot’s contents into his cup to dilute the sugar as he always did. He knows he’s going to pour too much in, but he doesn’t say anything. He never gets the balance right. It makes him smile; it’s good to know he stayed the same in some aspects. It’s good to know he’s changed in some aspects, too. He’s bolder now, more outspoken. Still just as kind, though, and still doesn’t know the right ratio of hot drink to sweetener.

Words are stuck in his throat, almost as bad as the thick atmosphere from before, and he so desperately wants to spit it out. He doesn’t want to stay a near stranger forever, and the only way to stop that would be to say something. He wants to admit everything, to catch him up of the years they missed, to apologise for everything he did.

It takes a few minutes to work himself up. He takes a long swig of his now warm drink, feigning nonchalance. His hand is shaking. He looks just to the right of where the prince sits, and he opens his mouth to speak. No words come out come out for a while, but he manages to mutter what he’s been meaning to say for so long.

“I missed you.”

Marcassin’s eyes widen, tears threatening to spill. He almost drops the teacup and chokes on his tea. That’s the thing that makes Swaine laugh out of everything, his own tears already halfway down his face. They both crack up then, wiping their eyes and sighing to try and stop themselves, but then they both look at each other again and repeat the cycle. It finally calms down after a few minutes of this, and they look away.

“I missed you too,” he sniffs, with a grin on his face and a voice cracking. It isn’t very stately of him, but it’s so very much like his little brother that it hurts. Swaine reaches for his hand from across the table and holds it. They want to get up and bridge this ridiculously small yet large distance between them, but they won’t just yet. He missed holding his hand.

They had found each other again.

**Author's Note:**

> So... I accidentally got sucked into the land of NNK brainrot for the second time this year, which is fun! I apologise if I butchered the characterisation of these two. I just,,, I love them a lot... Sibling relationships get to me.


End file.
